


Stretched Man

by clovismetz



Category: Original Work
Genre: Biting, Body Horror, Body Worship, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Haunting, Horror, Humiliation, Monsters, One Shot, Other, Rough Sex, Short Story, Squick, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovismetz/pseuds/clovismetz
Summary: "It didn’t fit right, in my closet. Too big. Too long. It had to fold and twist limbs around each other, and snap its spine into jagged, ugly, zig-zags. Every night, as it arrived, a gradual orchestra of crunches followed, and my stomach churned in perfect harmony with them. It took its time, so patient for me."A young woman is haunted by the monster in her bedroom closet. One night, she finally gives in.





	Stretched Man

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Read at your own risk, this is really gross. It's a horror story with the same horrific, disgusting descriptions but really raunchy sex and adoration towards those horrific descriptions thrown in. There's a lot of blood, cum, drool, and urgent monstrous fucking. 
> 
> My debut story! It's a complete short, and it's horribly filthy. I hope this isn't too niche and there are other extreme monsterfuckers who'll be happy with it, I'm shy but very excited to release it. 
> 
> If you enjoy this, please please visit our Patreon for more work like it, any support matters! <3 https://www.patreon.com/thegentlemanscollection

It was there again.

I could hear a quiet, scratchy inhale that must have coated its throat with layer after layer of dust. In the dead of night, there wasn’t anything to hide the sound of its skin and bones tightly grinding together.

It didn’t fit right, in my closet. Too big. Too long. It had to fold and twist limbs around each other, and snap its spine into jagged, ugly, zig-zags. Every night, as it arrived, a gradual orchestra of crunches followed, and my stomach churned in perfect harmony with them. It took its time, so patient for me. My tongue had been permanently stained with the taste of bile, and everything I ate, even in stark daylight, resembled vomit.

I never turned on the lights. I didn’t want to see it fully illuminated. The moonlight that streamed into my room was enough to carve out a vague impression of its elongated, hunched, curled form. Wrinkles and stretch marks wound around its entire body. Sharp bones jutted against papery skin, and looked to be seconds from bursting through, but never did. Its knees bruised black and yellow, digging into the hardwood flooring, while its elbows pressed to the ceiling and wall, scraping harshly, building up noticeable scabs and leaving sheaths of shed skin. I refused to go near them, so they remained.

Its eyes bulged from the sockets, glossy, red veined, and unblinking. Small, dark, beady pupils with no color surrounding them. Always on me.

It only opened its mouth on special occasions. The jaw was crooked, one side further down than the other, as if it wasn’t meant to move at all. It was missing teeth in some spots, empty gums with only shattered chips and traumatized root, but overcrowded in others, rows of them, rotten and full of little burrowed holes.

The stench wafting from that maw was impossible to put into words. It brought tears to my eyes, and an erratic tremble to my thighs that made me feel like an animal. The closest comparison was roadkill after a few days in the sweltering sun, mashed into soup and mixed with gunk from a clogged, decade old sink. And dust, of course. Dust from my closet it’d sucked down for years without a single cough. It struggled for air, with a sound coming out that almost sounded like tearing, but it didn’t cough. Maybe it was enjoying itself.

There were no doors on the closet, between us. The last owners of the house removed them, and I used to like seeing my clothes, so they weren’t replaced. The only separation was an imaginary, invisible line that marked the room and closet as different spaces. I don’t know why it never dragged itself out. It could’ve stretched its limbs, out here. Could’ve reached me while I was asleep.

But I wondered... if that was the point. How meaningless my distance really was. It’s only a choice I made.

I was alive. Yet for years, it’d been nestled there, watching every intimate moment. My first kiss, hiding under the bed and crying when my father passed, nearly swallowing too many pills before getting up the next morning and telling everyone I was doing swell.

Something in the shadows of my life, grotesque and unknowable, owned more parts of me than anyone else did, or ever could. It had never touched me, nor hurt me, but what did that amount to, in the end? There was a violence to intimacy, and the mere presence of this monster had me feeling like it’d already dove into my guts and made a home there.

That night, I stopped pretending my choice mattered.

I sat on the edge of my bed, facing the closet. Our eyes met. Cold sweat ran down the back of my neck. There wasn’t a sliver of humanity in its gaze, but I could tell it was focused in on me, air tight with anticipation.

I couldn’t break eye contact. Terror tickled goosebumps up my arms and legs. It was getting very difficult to breathe, or blink. My throat was parched, and sewn shut. My trembling hands, seemingly moving in slow motion, shifted up to my blouse and clicked the buttons off, one at a time.

With each snap, the creature’s jaw popped. When I had enough undone to slide my shirt off my shoulders, it had its mouth hanging wide open, glistening with saliva. My fight-or-flight instincts were self-cannibalizing.

I’d been naked in front of it before, for brief, hurried interludes, but I packed those memories in little boxes, and the little boxes into bigger boxes, and the bigger boxes into an underground safe. This was different.

I was facing it directly. Small, sweaty and all vulnerable pink flesh. My emotions sat right on my face, delicate lips pulled into a deep frown, eyes watery and desperate, cheeks flushed.

After I took a long, deep breath, that putrid air seeping into my lungs, I unclasped my bra at the front. My breasts dropped with a perky, tempting bounce.

The monster’s drool overflowed in the same way a bathtub with the faucet left on would, and splashed onto the floor, leaving several puddles. This drool wasn’t clear, it was a greenish color, and had things swimming in it, like an unfiltered pond.

I was dizzy with disgust and curiosity. Fear alone becomes boring. Human beings need stimulation. I already knew it looked awful, smelled awful, that was repeating myself, and I begin asking if it felt awful, tasted awful, and if it would hurt me once I gave myself over to it.

Some part of me couldn’t help being impressed by the strength of that reaction. I could walk through life like a ghost, and only this reminded me I had something to lose.

I pinched and tugged on my stiff nipples, expression contorting, soft gasps tumbling out. The stretched man rippled with excitement, body and limbs twitching in wavelike patterns, creaks and cracks louder. I didn’t care if it was bloodthirsty or turned on. Either way, it wanted me, and that made my toes curl.

The thoughts got worse. I kneaded my tits roughly, as if I was being grabbed by bigger, careless hands, with a grip that left them sore. My hips squirmed for a tense moment before I yanked my skirt down, abandoning it on the floor. I laid back, threw my legs apart, and closed my eyes, envisioning the drool.

I obsessed over what it’d feel like, slathered on my thighs, dribbling off my clit, and coating my insides in a thick, gooey layer. I whimpered, and before I even realized what I was doing, stuck three fingers into my pussy, pressed down to the last knuckle. Not enough, not nearly enough! I bucked my hips, and finally found myself overwhelmed by a starving lust. I added the rest of my fingers in a hurry, back arching from the mattress and silhouette elegantly contorted with pleasure.

I cried out, panicky, unsafe, and alive, my pitch high. I’d never needed anything as much as I needed this, and I unraveled myself for it, pulling my dignity to a new low. I was scum. But I heard the monster’s heavy, laborious rearrangement pick up speed. As my fluids spilled onto the clean white sheets, I heard it belt out a deep, rich shriek.

It had an undeniably monstrous voice, the range and volume nothing I could imitate. There was a texture, clicks and a dangerous, low croon, but something about it seemed hollow. I could picture it having an empty space inside, perfect for a girl about my age, my height, my weight.

The paranoia threw ice over my arousal for a minute, carnal fear seeping through false, adrenaline driven confidence. I fixed my eyes on the dark ceiling, unconsciously playing dead, fingers still buried between my sticky thighs.  
That thing was pounding its whole body against the wooden floor and cheap plaster walls. There was a heavy thud with each hit.

I sat up again. The creature faced me, all limbs exerting overbearing pressure, locked in place but shivering the same way I did, ready to lunge at the slightest trigger. Its jaw hung open, off one hinge, skin and bone crumbling around where it’d previously been connected. That must have gotten ripped when it’d banged itself up.

When it noticed I was paying attention, started grinding its hips flat against the floor, occasionally pulling back to slam them down with force. I thought about those hips flattened to mine, battering them until I was frail and numb from the waist down, and I burned like I had the worst fever of my life. I was the best kind of woozy.

I stood, let my hair down, and took it one step at a time, telling myself I could stop, go back to bed, call my friends in the morning and tell them I love them. Knowing I wouldn’t. The closet wasn’t far, and it’s small, but the gap felt wider than it looked, and the temperature around me dropped as I crept forward.

One foot made contact with the drool. A slimy, itchy feeling scrambled up my leg. I could’ve imagined it, but there could’ve been wriggling under my heel, between my toes. When I was at that invisible line, a hair away, the creature lurched close. Its head swayed at my eye level, the bulbous eyes angled towards me. Its tongue pressed over its rotting teeth, wetting them, repeatedly.

Hot monster breath rolled over me, as if I’d opened an oven, returning any heat I’d lost while stumbling here. It pooled in my gut and thrashed like a nest of eels. I checked myself out with a wobbly lip. I hadn’t taken off my panties, but I was a mess. Shaking with arousal and fear, sweat on my back, nipples begging for attention, drenched thighs.

I stepped forward, squeezing out of my panties. They hugged my hips and legs on the way down, emphasizing my shape. Painfully flustered, but triumphant, I stared at the way the creature leaned in. It had no human impulse to be coy. I gently pulled my labia back to show off my pussy, taking shallow breaths. It’s shamelessly pink. The monster let out another powerful huff, this one sounding more suffocated, a signal for me to get my ass in there. My clit tingled, and my knees nearly buckled. I couldn’t stand it anymore. If I wasn’t fucked or devoured in the next ten minutes, I’d throw a fit.

The tips of my toes were all it took. As soon as I was over the line, it struck. A hand shot out, snaked tightly around my foot, and yanked with enough force to topple me. I cushioned my head’s fall with my hands, barely dodging a cracked skull. The hand slid up to my ankle for a better grip on me. I caught a look at that hand, getting a flash of visceral impressions. Flaking skin, inflamed, oozing wounds underneath, with dirt caked in. I hated it, and wanted to rub my face on it. My stomach butterflies threatened to flutter up my esophagus.

I slipped into the closet, scream dying in my throat as the air was knocked out of me, plunging into its oppressive atmosphere. From the inside, it was stuffier than ever. Cobwebs in every corner, peeled walls, disgusting piles of shed skin. The monster’s limbs surrounded me, the bars to my cage. And now, I couldn’t breathe without that meaty scent filling my lungs. I was starting to feel like I’d gone out and eaten a few mangled corpses myself.

The maw loomed. Warm drool splattered onto my forehead and dripped over my eyelids, down to my cheek. More followed, on my nose, chin, and mouth. I sobbed, licked my lips clean, then swallowed. My face scrunched and my stomach clenched, rejecting it. My body could tell it was poison. I pushed myself up on my elbows for more, heart hammering. I was a glutton for punishment. I kissed its jaw adoringly, lips wet and soft against vastly foreign textures. I sucked on the imperfect, filthy teeth, letting the drool pour over my face. It got in my eyes, nose, and ears. I had so many openings to fill with grime.

The monster’s head, much larger than mine, closed the space between us. It smashed our faces together, gnawing at my mouth more than kissing me, and I soon felt a thick tongue parting my lips. It’s bumpy, and heavy, like a tree root, with a different strong taste to it. Tangy, rusting metal. It pushed around my mouth without finesse. Fuzzy eyed and unable to breathe, I gave a muffled moan and spent my limited energy sucking it off like a cock.

It was content with this for a while, but it grew more ambitious once it realized it’d get away with anything it did to me. It was experimenting. I felt the tongue weigh at the back of my mouth, crushing my own tongue and making me gag. Struggling initially before submitting, the loss of air and control gave me a rush. I was simultaneously buried under the dirt and floating up in the sky, flawed human senses overloaded and manipulated until polar opposites thrived. The tongue worked itself down, wiggling and slithering. It was like deepthroating an anaconda wrapped in sandpaper. It fucked my throat a little, which surprised me, so I only lasted for a few thrusts before I was choking, with our mixed saliva gushing from the less sealed sides of my overstuffed mouth. My vision had begun deteriorating, but creature retracted its tongue just in time, so I didn’t lose consciousness.

I coughed and hacked a lot, trying to get my bearings before I was subjected to something far worse, but my throat stayed dry, scratchy, and dirty. I felt like the uncleaned filter of an air conditioner used for several summers. With the dust and drool irritating them, my eyes were still teary. I probably looked like human garbage. I was deliriously thrilled, because finally, finally the physical impact of the monster was visible. It wasn’t all in my head. It was going to be in the rest of my body.

I grabbed the monster’s hand, taking back the initiative. It clicked and clacked at me in interest. I ran my lips over long, many knuckled fingers, explored the flaky skin my tongue, and nibbled the raw, red wounds underneath. I mouthed at those knuckles individually, but took in a couple fingers in at a time, squeezing them between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Foul, acidic fluids trickled out. I gulped down anything I came in contact with gratefully.

The monster clumsily rested its jaws on my sensitive breasts, teething at the skin harmlessly for a moment before biting down until it drew blood. I let out a sharp squeal of pain, legs kicking at empty air. It lapped up the blood seeping out and did it again, several times, until my pale chest was covered in abnormally shaped bite marks. Wide, toothy holes everywhere, with dark blood rising rapidly.

I cried in earnest, tears coming down like a rainstorm. I was miserable, horny, and satisfied. I wordlessly begged it to fuck me, straining my legs as wide as possible, expression urgent and pining.

It lifted my hips off the ground, holding me under the knees. I dangled helplessly, my face flushed with affection. All the control I’d surrendered was showing, and I felt some kind of sick fascination, maybe even love, for that. The monster’s huge head pressed between my thighs. The teeth, jagged and uneven on their surface, broken or decaying things, dragged over my pussy’s lips and clit. I squealed and hooked my legs around its neck, enthusiastically tugging it in. “Yes, please yes,” I slurred.

The tongue that’d already overwhelmed my mouth sank into my pussy next. The bumps felt otherworldly, in the sense that they were uncomfortable and addictive at the same time. The weight was better than a human cock’s. The drool painting my insides was greasy, slippery and gritty. I pictured my entire house’s worth loose specks of dirt gravitating towards my closet, right to this beast’s mouth. I imagined becoming dirt, from the inside out. I squirmed and moaned as the tongue stretched me as far as I could stretch, some of the drool spilling out and dripping onto my stomach.

It twisted inside me, the same way its limbs twisted outside. The tongue curved like a corkscrew, fitting more of itself in. This was one of my favorite parts, and I nearly felt fuller than I could stand. I wasn’t a virgin, but I’d never been double penetrated. If I had, it still wouldn’t have been like this. The mass inside me writhed and convulsed with agency. It explored me precisely, had to know me too well. It prodded at my cervix, and when I squeaked, took that as a sign and kept going, tongue tips shoving into the small hole, surgically careful but still overstimulating. I slapped the floor and the monster’s limbs with my palms as my hips started to shiver. I was at the edge of an orgasm and it was too soon. I had to cum while I took this unholy freak’s cock. My corruption wouldn’t be half assed.

It dropped me hard. It didn’t tremble with arousal as much as it vibrated, and the buzz made your teeth rattle. It touched me, stick-like fingers snapping around my waist and neck. The limbs came after them, winding and entangling with me in nonsensical patterns, knotting over itself, layering and layering until I was practically encased in hot, wrinkled, alien flesh.

Hips already locked together and reinforced by other limbs, the creature’s cock finally unfolds from the crevices it’d hidden in. It begins small and knobby, and fits inside me without any trouble. But I already know none of it really fit. It only used tricks to squeeze into the closet, and this was no different. Its cock swelled up until it hit the same point the tongue had, then bloated further, bigger. It was a wrinkled, fat cock, with veins I could feel, bumpier than the tongue. The bumps were varied in size and how much resistance they gave, some firm, others soft, reminding me of formless unnamed diseases. It had such a defined, imposing, repulsive shape. I wasn’t the right size for this, but that made it feel so much better. My limits were shattered, and their pieces fueled the fire of passionate descent.

It hurt, but I felt complete.

I forgot the real action hadn’t even started. When it was rock hard, it let out a guttural screech, and rammed our hips together like we were in heat. I sputtered and made more pathetic, needy mewling sounds than I’d known myself to be capable of making. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought it was scrambling up my insides, reordering my organs, making a smoothie. But it was fucking me. Brutally enough that I forgot my own name and why I hadn’t done this earlier. The rough friction sent jolts of electricity to my clit. The monster’s head hung close, so I tilted my head and gave it sloppy, open mouthed kisses. When I swallowed more drool, I tasted my own blood.

The pace got faster. My weak legs rocked pathetically. I felt like its cock might burst from my stomach, and I wasn’t opposed. I had my arms and legs lost in the maze of monstrous limbs, all of them including my own working up a new sweat. I started simply inhaling drool instead of oxygen, and lost my vocabulary in moans. We rolled around on the floor like worms, I was on top, then on my side, back on the floor again, and eventually pinned to the ceiling.

The monster snarled and spat like a mad dog, seemingly approaching finale and loss of its own control. It had me completely in air, no hand or leg holds. I flailed and screamed, voice hoarse, in need of either recuse or getting finished off. My feet hung down, trembling. I was distinctly aware that I didn’t have any ground underneath me, and felt the same way I did on the edge of a balcony, bridge, or roof. But that contrasted with the creature’s cock diving into me like a jackhammer, making me bounce, in the air for a few seconds before my bare skin hit the ceiling again. My climax came to me then, shivering through me and making me buck involuntarily. I sobbed quietly and rasped one last “Yes!”.

Cum exploded from its cock in high pressure spurts, flooding my pussy while my limbs hung down numbly. I couldn’t move, or even blink, I just twitched and gaped like a fish. The cum was boiling hot, dense, and syrupy. Sticky like tree sap, gluing the monster’s cock to me. It felt like a long time passed by before it was done. It was an open pipe, uninhibited, and it leaked from my pussy and fell on the monster, drizzling over and staining the dry skin, disappearing into cracks and folds.

I was tossed back on the floor, ass up, face to the ground, nose bent and still breathless. Everything ached, and I felt unquestionably filthy, to the core. Cum streaked down my thighs and flowed across the ground until it reached my face and hair. All I had the strength to do was open my mouth, hoping some of that cum would dribble in. It was hard to see in the low light, but I still saw a greenish off-white hue, like I had with the drool, and even bigger dark particles that I knew must be wriggling inside of me. It tasted like someone had bottled the essence of the word ‘vile’.

The monster never pulled out. It pressed in to fill me anew, hands at my waist and squeezing too hard, like it was going to break my spine. I ceased having any coherent perspective on what happened, but I kept welcoming its embrace.

I was consumed and broken and created. I succumbed to my fear. I let it eat me alive, and I loved it.


End file.
